


Fervor

by erde



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Getting Back Together, M/M, Mission Fic, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Sex Pollen, Some Porn Mostly Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-14 03:30:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16905285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erde/pseuds/erde
Summary: Steve finds himself in some particular kind of trouble after breathing a chemical. Tony, who supposedly doesn't want anything to do with him anymore, gives him a hand.





	Fervor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cap Iron Man Community](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Cap+Iron+Man+Community).



> Loosely inspired by the community prompt _A chemical deployed by a villain forces Steve into rut during a battle. Not wanting to force himself onto anyone, he hides himself away tucked into the ruins of a fallen building, Tony coaxes him out and gets him back safely home_ with a side of _Tony finds Steve sitting alone in the rain._

The exposed brick crumbled further in his grasp, lump-sized pieces scattering around his feet, covering his gloves and the tips of his fingers in a fine layer of dust. "Where are you?" Sam asked, followed by Natasha calling his name, and in the background, a single low-spoken word wormed its way into his skull, seizing all of him from the inside out.

Steve gasped, grunting _I'm fine_ before he could no longer stand the sound carrying through the comms. He yanked his earpiece and tossed it to the ground. Their voices had been punctuated by a low, piercing wail no one else seemed to notice. Feedback of some kind. He should have asked Tony about it before he crushed the earpiece under his boot. He should have—

He wanted to crawl out of his skin. His uniform felt like it was plastered to his body, stiff and heavy, unfamiliar. He was parched, running hot and cold. His pants felt tighter with each clumsy step he gave. His cock was throbbing.

Swallowing, he pushed forward into the ruins of the complex, yet another Soviet era relic left behind to rust and collapse on itself. Sweat pooled on his brow. It was summer and overgrown weeds poked out between the cracks in the concrete, sparking no thoughts of Siberia. Almost.

Steve tried not to think about it, about him. It was an impossible task made all the more hopeless because whatever it was that now coursed through his veins was making blood rush to his groin, leaving him lightheaded.

_Rogers._

The word had barely been a whisper and he had almost lost his mind. He closed his eyes and breathed hard, pressing his knuckles against his forehead, and then along the edge of his eye sockets. In his self-imposed darkness, the memories flashed sharp and clear. His skin under the palms of Steve's hands. The curve of his spine fitting against him in his sleep, light, always light. His body, the sheer anchoring warmth of it.

Tony.

 

*

 

The chemical, contained, dispersed high above in an pale yellow whirlwind. Several feet away, Wanda let her hands fall gently in a conductor's gesture. She had it down to an art now.

FRIDAY showed him the readings, oscillating percentages within a range small enough to call them certain. There was no hazardous concentration present in the air, at least for now, but the sky was overcast, asphalt dark. With rainfall, the particles would follow. The clock was ticking.

"Fall back," Tony said to the others. There weren't civilians to worry about, not here in the middle of fucking nowhere. "Where the hell is Rogers?"

He knew very well how he sounded. Winded, short on patience. Worried sick. They knew what they had used this place for. Experiments. Bizarre, gruesome things. 

"Par for the course for these assholes," Barnes had whispered before as he adjusted his rifle, and at his side, Natasha had cocked her gun and let the ghost of a smile steal across her lips. Steve had caught sight of them as well, and in the next breath, he had looked at Tony in the same way he did lately, after Siberia, after Thanos.

One of the benefits of hiding behind a mask was that he didn't have to work on an impassive look to foil the display of emotion on Steve's face. He could simply stare, turn his head and feign disinterest, the way he almost always did since he learned the truth.

This time it wasn't any different. He studied their surroundings instead, narrow working tables, dusty vials standing upright on wiry racks. Below, piles of yellowed paper covered the floor like dead leaves, and in the shelves, lab specimens remained suspended in time and cloudy formaldehyde. Biology here, biochemistry next door. That was where the showdown had taken place, where they apprehended what was left of the group they had been tracking since last week, where something had gone wrong in the way things usually do, something small gaining traction in a split of a second, and then, the unraveling.

Steve had taken most of the hit, followed by the idiot who had let the chemical loose in the first place. And now, he was missing.

"That guy looks violently sick," Clint said before he sent the first-aid kit his way. He was perched on a ladder and pointing his bow to where John Doe was writhing on the ground, looking flushed and breathless.

Tony knelt next to him. Blood pressure and heart rate on the rise, pupils dilated. Doe's oxygen levels were acceptable, but he placed a breathing mask on him just to be on the safe side, even if the only thing he wanted was to kick his ass. Steve had the serum, but Tony couldn't check up on him because he was nowhere to be seen.

Clint leaned forward, almost dangling from the handrails. A trapezist's old tricks.

"Hands off," Tony said, trying for nonchalant. "We don't know what the thing is yet, so better let those of us who have a built-in hazmat suit deal with it."

Clint laughed. "Whatever you say, man."

"I got this," Rhodey said, landing next to him. "I'll take him to Bruce."

"Thanks, honeybear," Tony whispered, sounding more relieved than he meant to. Doe was staring at Clint with glazed eyes, chest heaving with effort. Tony cursed under his breath and checked Doe's vitals again on the HUD.

Steve had the serum, he reminded himself for the nth time.

"Did Rogers say anything else before he decided to saunter off to play hide and seek?" Tony asked the crowd. It was the kind of thing that endeared him to people, he knew, but he didn't care. There was a bubble of panic threatening to come to surface, and he was fighting it tooth and nail.

"Comms are off on his side," Barnes replied from one of the platforms above. He had one of the thugs on a headlock, and from the looks of it, he was barely breaking a sweat.

 _Easy for you to be so calm about it. You've never had to see him die,_ Tony thought, but he bit his tongue before any of it came out of his mouth. They weren't like this, usually. Tony wasn't always an asshole, and much to his chagrin, Barnes had figured out early on that whenever he actually was, he didn't mean it, at least for the most part.

"Well, if you'll excuse me," Tony said, "I'm off to get his ass back here."

"I know," Barnes said, all knowing eyes and an air of one hundred-years-old wisdom to him.

 _You know what exactly,_ Tony wanted to ask, except that only threw light on it instead of keeping it under wraps. "Goddammit," he said under his breath, and firing his repulsors, he took flight.

 

*

 

"It stopped being funny twenty minutes ago," Tony said to no one in particular. The complex was built like a towering maze, with long hallways branching out every so often and leading to dead ends, and while that might have made sense once upon a time, keeping would-be escapees on their toes, it only made the search harder. Thermal imaging revealed nothing of value either, only the odd wild animal scampering as soon as it lay eyes on him. 

Feeling frustrated, he was about to blast a reinforced door to kingdom come when Bruce spoke softly over the comms. "Tony."

"No news on my side, if you were wondering. Tell me that guy didn't die or I might really start to worry," Tony said in a droll tone. Live feeds from the improvised surveilling system he had just set up were displayed before him, every single room run-down and gloriously empty.

"We had to sedate him," Bruce said. "But we discovered a few properties about the chemical agent."

Tony was trying not to freak out, the keyword being _trying._ "He's a werewolf now?"

"The alterations aren't that life-changing, but unusual nonetheless."

"Unusual how?"

"It's designed to incapacitate, but not to leave lasting damage on the central nervous system. So you have run-of-the-mill side effects such as rapid heart rate, increased blood pressure, enhanced sensory perception. The odd one out would be, well, heightened sexual arousal."

"What?"

"You heard me the first time."

"Roger that," Tony said, feeling so dumbfounded he barely registered the rolling of thunder coming from far away.

 

*

 

He could feel the individual marks left on the wall. They were as numerous as pores, an imitation of living matter. The texture alone sent shivers down his spine, but he couldn't find it in him to care. Here was better than elsewhere. The wet concrete was cool against his heated skin, and the ocean was loud enough to dull anything that didn't come from the inside of his mind, no amplified noise rattling inside his head, only memories.

There was greenery here too, grass blades grown wild and fuzzy dandelion heads bowing before the raindrops, and although they did their best to muffle sound, the suit was far too heavy to go unnoticed. _It's melodic,_ Steve had said once, eyes set on his sketchbook as he listened to Tony suiting up before he gave the Mark 43 a test ride.

Tony had rolled his eyes. You could hear it in his voice, even if he had left the faceplate down. _Melodic,_ he repeated.

Steve had huffed a laugh, looking up. He had just finished shading the plates welded together to house the arc reactor, graphite gray as well as its absence to signal light. _It sounds like you._

"Aren't you noble," Tony said in the here and now. He was mostly civil to Steve these days, but the undercurrent of anger was always there. Not even saving the world together had been able to dispel it. "Did you think you were sparing us from seeing your _little predicament_ this way?"

Steve swallowed hard. Tony knew. He knew and he could probably see the crude, pale stain against the leg of his uniform in all its detail, and the thought turned into heat coursing through him like molten metal. 

"You shouldn't come close," Steve said, raising his voice over the rain, trying and failing. It came out wrong, high-pitched, unsteady. He was so hard that his knees would probably buckle if he tried to stand.

Tony crooked his neck and the gauntlets went to his sides, framing the sleek lines of embossed gold that ran along his hips. "Why, you like what you see? Was that always a thing with you, me in the suit?"

It sounded mocking rather than teasing, and although he probably deserved to be put through the wringer again and again, Steve couldn't help the dull ache inside his chest, and then the fresh wave of arousal that followed, entirely uncaring about his sadness. "Yes," he forced himself to say. It didn't feel like he could hold secrets any longer, not in his current state, not before Tony, not anymore.

The admission stopped Tony in his tracks. His arms fell to his sides, limp. Steve stared openly at the armor, blinking rain away. It was beautifully crafted, precise angles and flowing curves weaved together with a skilled hand. His cock twitched.

"I thought you were dying," Tony said abruptly, and the naked sorrow behind his anger shook Steve to the core. "I thought you had gone off somewhere to die. Don't _ever_ do that again."

He came closer, placing his gauntlet on the top of Steve's head, and Steve held on, wrapping his hands around Tony's arm. Something built up and shifted then, inaudible. Tony's fingers tangled in his hair as he pushed Steve's head backwards. The rain leaking through the roof slid past Steve's lips, into his beard, down the line of his throat. He breathed open-mouthed, looking up into the cool light of the armor's eyes.

"Shit, I'm an idiot. We have to get you out of here," Tony said, his voice thick. He knelt before Steve and cupped his face, brushing the pulse point thundering on his neck, and although the metal was cooler than the concrete had been, he still burned up. He pulsed red underneath Tony's touch, a live wire made out of heat.

Tony brushed the hair out of his eyes very gently, making him shiver. "I told them I found you. I'll take you to the quinjet now and—"

"No."

"Steve." The sound of his name made pleasure roll in his belly before it grew into white-hot pain.

"I want you," he managed to grit out.

"You don't," Tony said, as certain as he had always been about everything except what truly mattered. "It's the chemical. I didn't think it would affect you this much. You breathed more of that shit than that idiot did, but the serum should have helped. Listen, let me take you to—"

"I want you and I need you, I always have, and it—"

 _It hurts,_ he almost said. His heartbeats were louder than the storm, and the silence hanging between them, louder than words. At once, he understood what it meant. Long ago, Tony had loved him. Now he did not.

Steve started laughing, feeling feverish. His heart was breaking and he was shivering under the weight of each of its pieces. He pawed at Tony's gauntlet, placed it on his head the way it had been earlier. He could feel the the contour of the repulsor against his scalp, its deadly shape. The burn on his chest had healed quickly after Siberia. They hadn't. "Knock me out."

"What?"

"Please," Steve said between gasps. "It should be easy, I don't feel very—"

Tony stood up instead, leaving him bereft. He stepped outside, beyond the remains of what had once been impenetrable walls, an elegant shadow against the lightning. His helmet disappeared in a cascade of sparkling gold and red and silver, raindrops nestling on his hair until there were dark curls falling on his forehead. He was beautiful, his Tony.

When he found his way back, past the blanket of green emerging from the earth and with the ocean roaring black behind him, his eyes were nearly devoid of light, pupils blown wide. The suit disappeared in areas, giving way to skin, and he sat carefully astride Steve's lap, lightly wrapping his arms, still cast in metal, around his shoulders. Steve held on to Tony's waist with clumsy hands, like he had forgotten what it was like to have him close, to simply have him.

"Stupidest idea I've ever had," Tony said, breathless.

"No, no. It reminds me of Madrid," Steve whispered against Tony's collarbone, and the metal ebbed here too, flesh and sharp lines raising to meet his lips.

A gala in a foreign embassy, spiked drinks, all inhibitions forgotten by otherwise respectable guests, and out of sight, the hit of the decade, or so went the plan. They had put a stop to it, to the heist and the bacchanal. Nearby emergency rooms had to deal with patients with odd, embarrassing to explain symptoms on top of their usual surplus of midnight cases. Others, far more practical, had decided to go for casual you-scratch-my-back-and-so-forth arrangements.

 _It seems like we'll have to fuck it out of our systems, Cap,_ Tony had whispered in his ear. Steve felt frisky, and even though the drug would fade from his bloodstream far more quickly, he usually felt this way around Tony anyway. Whenever he was close, Steve felt the compulsion to touch, to relearn the topography of him. He loved his body, compact and beautiful and stronger by virtue of having survived what he had, grievous injuries with scars etched deep into his skin, the wreckage of poison, his own demons.

They had been going steady for months already around that time, but there was always something new with Tony. Steve had cornered him in the empty hallway, fingers pressed against the soft curve of his waist. In answer, Tony had looked up at him shamelessly, licking his lips before he slipped away from his grasp, and with nothing more than a slight turn of his head and a smirk, he made Steve follow him. They had laughed on the way to their room, and once inside, Steve had picked him up, held him against a wall, had his way with him. Then, they had moved to the bed and started anew.

"Madrid had satin sheets," Tony said with a click of his tongue. Steve remembered his tousled hair after they had made love, the way he had stretched languorously on the bed, looking extremely pleased with himself. 

Tony had smiled even wider after Steve pointed it out. _The word you're looking for is well-fucked, babe._

"I don't suppose that utility belt of yours still carries a torch for me," Tony said.

Steve tugged open one of the pouches, letting Tony take a look for himself. "I told you, didn't I? I want you," he said, looking at Tony in the eye. "I always have."

"Aren't you a boy-scout ready romantic," Tony said, sounding a little too rough for the joke to be just that, and then he kissed him.

It was urgent, and as such, lacking finesse, but it didn't matter. Steve had dreamed about this, about being allowed to touch him again, about Tony getting his hands on him and unfastening and unbuckling whatever needed unfastening and unbuckling, making quick work of his own design. He had dreamed about it often enough to resent waking up and being forced to face a reality where he didn't have him, and still, he had let the end of the world come and go because he thought that was the right thing to do, doing nothing. Because he thought he owed Tony distance, time to heal, the chance to find happiness without him.

 _So you two aren't—_ Steve had asked her, trying to keep still as he waited for the answer. Inside, his heart raced.

 _Oh no, Steve,_ Pepper had said, giving him a sympathetic look. Only a few moments ago she had looked happy and exhausted and proud just as he had felt after New York, after he saw Tony open his eyes and known for sure that he was alive. Her gauntlet had wrapped softly around his wrist, and they had stood in companionable silence for a little while before she gave his hand a little squeeze, raised an eyebrow, and added, _So what are you going to do about that?_

He kept kissing Tony, leaning forward until he had him lying down, and then he held him by the hips, lifting his ass until he had it on his lap. He removed one of his gloves, aided by his teeth, and then he poured lube on the palm of his hand out of the small vial he kept in his belt.

"That's pornographic," Tony breathed, revealing more of his skin. He was gorgeous, from the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled to the way his cock now curled red against his stomach. 

Steve's throat felt dry. "What is?"

"You in your uniform's long sleeves, sans gloves. And don't look at me like that, you just admitted you have an armor kink."

"I thought you _liked_ the gloves."

"I like both," he said, gasping as Steve got one finger past his rim, then two.

"Hurry," Tony said under his breath. "Run, don't walk, here."

Steve kissed the side of his knee, the border between the warmth of his flesh and the coolness of the metal. "I had missed—"

"The view?" Tony said, canting his hips, and then they were laughing.

Steve hadn't thought they would laugh together again, and without meaning to, his eyes stung. He bowed his head and blinked, hiding a wobbly smile. Yes, he had missed this too. How could he not? The memory of him was a constant ache.

"Do you really want this?" Steve whispered.

"No, I was merely being my good ol' charitable self when I stepped outside and breathed that junk. _Philanthropist._ It's in the name," Tony huffed, letting out a soft moan, and his eyes rolled up before he closed them shut. "Let go, help me up. I want to ride you."

Steve did, of course he did. He would do anything Tony asked of him.

Tony reached out for the zipper that went from his neck to his waist, wandering fingertips brushing feather-light against his bobbing Adam's apple, an invisible line in the middle of his chest, the trail of hair growing below his belly button. Patient as he rarely ever was, he pushed the uniform past Steve's shoulders and touched him like they had all the time in the world, and Steve sighed and closed his eyes like they only had a few moments left to spare and this is how he wanted to go, with Tony's hand splayed over his heart.

His fly was half-way down because he had tried to find release before and failed, but Tony didn't comment on it. He palmed him through the fabric, making him hiss, and then he tugged his cock free.

"Tony," Steve said. When he opened his eyes, Tony was looking down, long lashes casting shadows under his eyes, and he couldn't read him. He was so good at hiding, sometimes, at keeping everyone else out. It took someone to chase after him, to coax him out. He had forgotten that. _I'm sorry I stopped trying,_ he thought. _I'm sorry I kept away._

"Hurry," Tony said again, shifting so that Steve could slide inside him. He felt warm and tight, perfect. Steve held him with trembling fingers as they embraced and rocked together. The metal receded once more, glinting down Tony's shoulders like stardust, and Steve kissed his chest, the dip at the base of his neck, his lips.

"Tony—"

"I can't refuse you," Tony said the way he would sometimes talk in his sleep, so quiet you could barely catch it. "I've tried and tried, but I can't."

Steve called his name, breathed it against the gray growing at his temples and the soft skin of his earlobe, the way he had in countless dreams, and Tony tensed in his arms, made a low, breathy sound, words caught in his throat, and then he came, going boneless.

"You're in safe hands," Steve said, willing himself to believe it. He kept kissing Tony's body, skimming his fingers across his back, holding him throughout until his breathing got back to normal, became quiet enough to call it a whisper. Tony sighed and curled against Steve, a little smaller, a little older, as beautiful as the first time they met.

"Tony," Steve said again, fighting the heat trying to burst through his skin. For once, he tried to stay in the moment, to cling to this, to him, to them, but the effort was as fruitless as pooling seawater in his hands.

"Don't hold back," Tony said, kissing the corner of his mouth before he clenched around Steve's cock, and just like that, he went blind, drowning in sensation. The tips of his fingers and his toes prickled, his whole body pulsed like a exposed nerve. He came to with Tony's arms wrapped around him, drifting closer and closer to the sound of his name whispered against his hair.

They stared into each other's eyes for the length of a heartbeat, for one decade and counting. Tony helped him dress in silence, and once he was satisfied with his work, he stood up like he had before, let the armor cover every inch of skin Steve had kissed. He stared straight ahead into the dark, lightning-struck sky, another old memory brought to surface, and then he said, "They left a quinjet for us. I hope you don't get easily embarrassed these days, because I'm afraid they put two and two together."

 _Put what together,_ Steve meant to ask, but then Tony told him to hop in, so he swallowed, picked up his shield, and held on to him.

 

*

 

They didn't talk about it, not as Steve let go of the armor, his feet back on the ground; not as they climbed inside the quinjet side by side, not even as they took their seats and waited for take off. They were airborne when Steve finally hazarded an _I love you,_ and Tony flinched ever so slightly before he pretended he hadn't heard.

"FRIDAY's scans say we're good, as healthy as ever," Tony said, drumming his fingers on the arm of his seat. "Still, I can't wait to take a shower."

Steve left his seat and knelt at his feet, caught in the palm of his hand. "Tony."

"Did you mean it?" Tony asked without meeting his eyes.

"You know I did."

Tony breathed out, closing his eyes, and cold rippled through Steve, nothing but pure dread. Still, he held on the way he would have liked to after Tony said _Good to see you, Cap,_ the way he was dying to after Tony came back to Earth, the way he always, always wanted. He wrapped his hand around Tony's loose fist, roughly the size of his heart.

"Come with, then," Tony said, clearing his throat. "Stay the night."

Steve stood up, pulling Tony along until he was also on his feet, and then he embraced him. His dreams never went this far, them together, heading home. This was the other side of the coin—for every dream where he could touch him to his heart's content, a nightmare followed. Half the time, Tony turned to ash before he could reach him. Half the time, he died without hearing it again from Steve's lips. _I love you. You have no idea how much I do._

"What are you up to?"

"Indulge me," Steve said, and his voice sounded rough, fallen out of use, but he didn't mind.

Tony pressed the tips of his fingers against Steve's scalp and traced light, circular patterns, stroking his hair gently the way he used to do come morning, as they lay in bed.

"Let's go home," Tony said, and it was better than dreams could ever be.

"I love you," Steve replied, and it was the truth.


End file.
